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Walking Penumbral


Vesaniae

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Well, here we go again. :D

 

This is the sequel to Afterimages. It will contain spoilers for the SI and IA storylines, with possibly the occasional SW spoiler here and there.

 

Now that that's settled...welcome back! :D Please fasten your seatbelts and keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. And now, off we go!

 

Prologue

Kaas City, Dromund Kaas

19 ATC

 

 

Vorin Janeth smashed the fallen cyborg’s head with his electrostaff, sending sparks flying from the crushed electronics. He bashed it again just to make certain it was dead—Jadus’ minions were frustratingly hard to kill—then turned to look for his next opponent.

 

He saw Darth Jadus near the center of the room. None of the Guardsmen seemed to be able to hold their own against him, and he was steadily making his way towards the Emperor. He was sorely tempted to charge the Sith Lord himself, do his part to delay him. That was all they could hope to do.

 

Suddenly, a small red figure appeared in the entrance to the chamber. The Wrath surveyed the scene for a moment, then leaped through the room to land directly in front of Jadus, drawing her lightsabers.

 

Janeth started towards them, feeling a faint wisp of hope.

 

“Wrath,” Jadus said. “You should not stand in my way.”

 

“You should not challenge our master,” the Wrath snapped. She leveled her lightsabers at him. “The punishment for treason is death.”

 

Jadus shook his head. “Continue to follow the Emperor, and it is you who will die.”

 

To Janeth’s surprise and confusion, the Wrath smiled grimly. “You think I don’t know?”

 

“Then you are as blinded as the rest,” Jadus responded coldly.

 

“Not blinded. Simply past caring.”

 

“Then why do you fight?”

 

The Wrath regarded him with an expression of grim determination. “Because it’s my duty.”

 

The two Sith began to fight. Janeth hesitated, then decided that intervening at that point would do more harm than good.

 

Movement flickered in his peripheral vision, and he dodged out of the way as a cyborg’s vibrosword sliced through the space where he had been standing. Janeth’s eyes widened as he got a good look at it. This one was already injured, the cybernetics on its face dented and smoking.

 

He’d seen that blow dealt. This one had killed Arden.

 

Janeth clenched his jaw, rage surging through him, and attacked. The cyborg met every one of his blows squarely, but he pressed forward. The Imperial Guard taught that vengeance was the province of the Sith, but to hell with that. This…thing…had killed his partner, his friend. It would pay.

 

“You are strong,” Jadus said to the Wrath as Janeth exchanged blows with the cyborg. “You could have been a formidable ally. But your insistence on defending this self-destructive regime has made you a liability.”

 

“Was Nox a liability too?” the Wrath demanded. “Is that why she disappeared?”

 

“She was too dangerous to be permitted to live.”

 

Janeth caught the cyborg’s vibrosword on his electrostaff, hooking the weapon out of the creature’s hand. It flew across the room and landed close to where Jadus and the Wrath were circling each other.

 

“When I kill you,” the Wrath hissed, “it will be for her.”

 

Janeth smashed the cyborg on the head. It stumbled, then tried to flee. He started to pursue, then stopped short as it staggered close to the battle between the two Sith, then collapsed as its cybernetics shorted out. The Wrath tried to maneuver to use the obstruction to her benefit, but Jadus simply stepped over the corpse, unruffled.

 

“You do not mask your feelings well, Wrath,” he said as he continued to attack. “You feed upon your own pain. It strengthens you, for the moment.”

 

“That’s time enough to end you,” the Wrath retorted, slashing viciously towards him.

 

Janeth took a quick look around. His fellow Guardsmen were holding their own. He returned his attention to Jadus and the Wrath and waited for an opening.

 

Jadus deflected the Wrath’s attack with apparent ease. “In time, the power will move full circle, and expend itself upon its source. Like a serpent devouring its own tail, you will destroy yourself.”

 

She dodged his riposte. “Do I look like I give a damn?”

 

“No,” he said coldly. “And that is why you will fall.”

 

He disengaged his lightsaber from hers, leaping away from her, and lifted his free hand to throw lightning in her direction. She caught it on the cross of her blades and started walking towards him.

 

Janeth frowned worriedly. The Wrath was strong, but so was Jadus. He could only hope that with the Emperor’s favor, she would prevail.

 

Jadus dropped his lightsaber, bringing both hands up to increase the intensity of the lightning. Even at his distance, the energies set Janeth’s teeth on edge. He wasn’t Force-sensitive, but on some level he could feel the icy darkness emanating outward from the battle between the two Sith.

 

The Wrath pushed forward, one step at a time, but Jadus remained steadfast. Then the lightning suddenly faded away.

 

The hell is he doing? Janeth wondered.

 

The Wrath dove forward. Jadus dodged her first lightsaber, then ducked inside her guard to grab her by the throat. She stabbed at him as he lifted her off the ground. The first blade went through his shoulder, and the second left a red-hot scorch mark across his mask, but failed to penetrate the metal.

 

Janeth cursed under his breath and tightened his grip on his electrostaff, trying vainly to spot an opening. He couldn’t just stand there—

 

Jadus threw the Wrath to the ground with a blast of lightning, then reached towards the corpse of the cyborg that had fallen near them and summoned the creature’s vibrosword to his hand with the Force.

 

Why not his lightsaber? a small, detached part of Janeth’s mind wondered. He started to run forward.

 

The Wrath twisted partway to her feet, too slow. Jadus whirled around and drove the vibrosword through her body and into the stone beneath, impaling her neatly against the floor.

 

“No,” Janeth whispered. “Stars, no.”

 

Jadus nodded towards the stricken Wrath in a seemingly respectful gesture, then walked towards the center of the room. The darkness reached out with smoke-like tendrils and tried to devour him, but to no avail. Violet light lashed out and strangled the tendrils, burning through the shadows with a deeper, colder darkness of its own. Lightning made tracks of blinding white through the stygian clouds that boiled around the tall, implacable figure.

 

Janeth tore his eyes away from the Force battle and ran to the Wrath’s side. She had removed the vibrosword from her body and lay still upon the floor, blood running freely from her wound. Her eyes were closed, and her face had settled into an expression that could have almost been a smile.

 

“My lord,” Janeth whispered. He laid a hand on the side of her neck and realized that she could no longer hear him. Damn it. Damn it all.

 

Suddenly, the whole room shook, and cracks spidered outward across the floor from the center of the chamber. The darkness started to retreat into itself, forming a compact cloud that completely obscured the Emperor’s dais. Lightning flickered dimly on the inside of the cloud.

 

A shiver ran down Janeth’s spine as he watched. He could feel tension building in the air, like a string stretched tighter and tighter until it seemed inevitable that it would snap.

 

A few moments later, it did.

 

The wave of energy that blasted outwards from the center of the chamber knocked everyone in the room to the floor. Even Janeth, already on his knees, was sent sprawling. He narrowly managed to avoid falling on top of the Wrath’s body.

 

When the energy receded, the room became utterly silent.

 

Slowly, he raised his head, trying to push back sudden feelings of trepidation.

 

Darth Jadus stood in the center of the room. No shadows, no lights, no visible signs of power surrounded him. But as Janeth looked at him, he felt suddenly, inexplicably cold.

 

With the cold came pure fear.

 

The mask turned towards the nearest Guardsmen. Gloved hands lifted, and lightning tore through the air and into red-armored bodies.

 

Vorin Janeth was not a coward, but he knew when a situation was hopeless. Dying at Jadus’ hands would be a waste. Someone had to escape, to bear the news to those who stood a better chance of destroying this usurper.

 

He was close to the exit. Jadus’ attention was diverted. Instinct prompted him to pick up the Wrath’s lightsabers before springing to his feet. Glancing behind him one last time, he clutched the lightsabers tightly and ran for his life.

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*hem* Tell me I'm not the only one who would gladly follow a Darth Jadus Crushes Everything fic. Even though that's probably not where this is going :p

Careful, Bright, you're going to give me ideas... :D

 

One - Stormclouds

Red Light District, Nar Shaddaa

19 ATC

 

 

“Ah, you’re back,” the Nemoidian forger warbled. “Right on time.”

 

“In my business, it pays not to be late,” Vesania Serence responded coolly in a flawless Republic accent. “You have it?”

 

“As promised,” the forger said. He reached into the depths of his jacket and pulled out an identicard. “See?”

 

She leaned forward and examined the card carefully with a practiced eye. The Nemoidian lived up to his reputation; the facsimile was flawless.

 

She started to reach for the card.

 

“Oh, no,” the Nemoidian said, pulling his hand away. “You give me the money, I give you the card. That was the deal.”

 

Vesania shrugged. “Unfortunately, I seem to be a bit short on cash at the moment. Be a dear and hand it over for free, will you?”

 

The Nemoidian’s indignant reply cut off with a gurgle as his neck twisted sharply around with a loud snapping noise. She kicked the corpse over and plucked the fake identicard from the hand that had clenched reflexively around it.

 

“Now that’s the way to do business,” Vesania murmured with a smirk. She tucked the identicard into a pocket, then turned and walked casually out of the alley.

 

 

*****

 

 

Aboard Imperial warship Machaera

19 ATC

 

 

Janeth concluded his story, then looked at the two Sith Lords who stood watching him silently. Darth Marr was, as always, masked and inscrutable. Darth Ravage looked thoughtful.

 

A large contingent of Sith and military had managed to escape Dromund Kaas before Jadus’ forces could seize complete control of the planet. Gathering their allies, they had assembled just outside Imperial territory in the Unknown Regions. The Machaera was Darth Marr’s flagship; Janeth had been sent there to rest, recuperate, and tell the Sith Lords what he had seen.

 

It was the fifth time they’d had him recount the events that had occurred in the Emperor’s chamber. He was starting to wonder what the point was.

 

Marr’s mask turned towards Ravage. Ravage looked at Marr.

 

“You are dismissed, Guardsman,” the former said after a moment.

 

Janeth bowed and quickly departed the room.

 

“That,” Ravage said flatly once the door had closed, “was utterly pointless.”

 

“The information bore repeating,” Marr said.

 

Ravage frowned. “What more is there to say? Jadus used his absence to consolidate his plans, become even more powerful than we had thought possible.”

 

Marr shook his head. “Jadus may have defeated the Emperor, but he is not the Emperor himself. He can be killed, and he will fall.”

 

“And who is going to handle that, hm?” Ravage demanded. “Us? Last I checked, we were a little busy running for our lives.”

 

“As the only surviving members of the Dark Council, it falls to us to lead those still loyal to the true Empire in this time of crisis.”

 

“Lead them in what? Marr, we are cowering like womp-rats in the sand. This can’t continue.”

 

“You have not been particularly forthcoming with suggestions on what course of action to take.”

 

Ravage glared at him. “Don’t try to pin this on me. You’ve hardly been helpful either.”

 

“You are on my ship,” Marr said coolly.

 

“Yes, and when we’re finished here I will go back to my ship.”

 

“And continue to do nothing.”

 

“I am not doing nothing!”

 

Marr snickered quietly. “Your dalliances hardly count as productive activity.”

 

“I am not dallying—”

 

“It’s perfectly understandable,” Marr said dryly. “Nox is gone, you’re lonely…”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I seem to have touched a nerve,” Marr noted. “You were quite fond of her, weren’t you?”

 

“Stop talking about her in the past tense,” Ravage snapped. “She’s not dead.”

 

“Really.”

 

“I won’t believe she’s gone until I see a body,” Ravage said grimly.

 

“It would certainly be easy to find enough men to come to a consensus about its identity.”

 

“Marr, I have no idea why you think you can provoke me in this way—“

 

“But I am provoking you,” Marr interrupted. Ravage had the feeling he was smirking behind his mask. “I can feel your anger.”

 

“You’re imagining things,” Ravage said haughtily.

 

“It grates on you, doesn’t it?” Marr murmured. “The knowledge that Nox was never truly yours, that there were so many men before you, that if she is still alive she has undoubtedly found others to sate her desires…”

 

“Enough!”

 

Marr laughed softly. “I’ve been around longer than you, Ravage. I know what women like her do. I’m only surprised that it took her so many years to ensnare you.”

 

“If all you’re going to talk about is Nox,” Ravage said flatly, “I see no reason to remain here. I’m going back to my ship.” He started for the door.

 

“Vaiken,” Marr said abruptly.

 

Ravage paused. “What?”

 

“We need to take the Vaiken Spacedock.”

 

Ravage turned around. “And how do you propose we do that?”

 

“Jadus has his hands full securing his new Empire.” The last three words were dripping with scorn. “If he has managed to take control of Vaiken, it will be a shaky grip at best. Our forces are sufficient to mount an attack, and no doubt the ships already there will rally to our support.”

 

“That makes sense,” Ravage said slowly.

 

“Once we have the station,” Marr continued, “it will be easy to defend, and the resources there will make it an excellent staging area for our resistance.”

 

“So we’re a resistance, now?”

 

“Of course,” Marr said coolly. “Jadus cannot be permitted to remain in the Emperor’s seat. We must take back the Empire. Unless there’s something else you’d rather be doing?”

 

“You have my support.”

 

“Excellent.” Marr adjusted one of his gloves. “I believe you said you were leaving?”

 

“I’ve changed my mind,” Ravage muttered, walking away from the door. “I believe we have a strategy to plan.”

 

 

 

According to Google Translate, machaera means saber or blade in Latin. I thought it was fitting, not to mention pretty. In-universe, um, I'm just going to handwave it as being a word in ancient Sith or something. :rolleyes:

 

Nox is referred to as Vesania because she adapts her identity to suit a given situation. It's part of her Cipher training; she essentially lives whatever role she takes on, be it for a mission, or as in this case, other reasons. Right now, as far as anyone knows, she's just a Force-blind hoodlum on Nar Shaddaa, and Darth Nox is dead. She has therefore reverted to her real name.

Edited by Vesaniae
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om nom nom Nox! <3

 

*shamelessly joins fanclub*

I am the best. *preens*

Ravaaaaaaaaage, you're so adorable. Smolder more, Ravage. I love a man who smolders angstily.

Ravage and Nox...awesomeness :D

At some point, I think I actually stopped thinking of the whole Nox/Ravage ship as a joke and started taking it seriously as an actual pairing with actual feelings involved... I have no idea when that happened. :rolleyes:

 

 

Two - Dark Sunrise

Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas

19 ATC

 

 

Drusilla Ven’rai, better known as Watcher Twenty, kept her head down and her eyes fixed on her console. That was the safe thing to do, the sane thing to do. Too many people had disappeared already. She had no desire to join that number.

 

She looked at the console without really seeing it. The symbols on the screen blurred in her vision. Numbers, figures, letters. Hard, quantifiable data. She was good with that. Processing it all was simple—too simple. This was busywork, nothing challenging about it. At least it gave her ample opportunity to think.

 

It occurred to her, as it often had of late, that she could have left. She could have fled the planet while she still had the chance, and joined the Imperials opposing Jadus. Intelligence was working frantically on discovering their location, but they’d had little luck.

 

Drusilla knew that she could have left, but she had chosen to remain. Frankly, it was easier this way. Life was still routine, even if it was a routine under an even worse tyrant than the Emperor had been, and routine was comfortable.

 

What makes Jadus worse, anyway? she wondered. What makes him so different?

 

The difference, when one thought about it, was obvious. The Emperor had ruled from the shadows, entrusting the details to his many-tiered hierarchy of minions. Jadus, as always, preferred a more direct approach.

 

On the one hand, it meant that the Empire now existed in a new epoch of fear. On the other hand… Sith Intelligence had all the power, now. No more arguing with thick-headed Moffs who wouldn’t know what to do with a field report if it came with illustrated instructions. No more barely civil negotiations with the Ministry of Logistics. When Intelligence gave the word, the rest of the Empire scrambled to obey.

 

She had to admit, it was rather nice to be on top of the heap, for a change.

 

“Watcher Twenty.” Keeper’s cool voice broke into her thoughts and nearly made her jump out of her skin.

 

Focus, she told herself. She turned to face the other woman, snapping to attention. “Sir.”

 

“Status report,” Keeper said.

 

Drusilla summarized her activities glibly as she examined her superior. Keeper looked tired. The dark circles under her eyes looked almost like bruises, her eyes were bloodshot, and she seemed even paler than usual. Several strands of silver had appeared in her hair that had not been there a month ago.

 

“…and that’s all, sir,” Drusilla finished. She hesitated for a moment. “Sir, if I may ask…shouldn’t a Minder be handling this? These are internal affairs, approvals of requisition requests…not really the kind of thing I normally look at.”

 

Keeper sighed. “I can’t let you work on operations until your clearance has been processed.”

 

“Lovely,” Drusilla said darkly. “And when might I expect to go back to being useful, sir?”

 

“I don’t know,” Keeper snapped. “It’s hectic, trying to get everything reorganized, and—“ She snapped her jaw shut.

 

Probably realized that she was saying too much, Drusilla thought. “Do you really need to redo my clearance? After all, the likelihood of my being disloyal is virtually none, considering—“

 

Virtually none, Watcher,” Keeper interrupted. “It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.” Her lip curled ever so slightly. “You have demonstrated…aberrant behavior in the past.”

 

“What, because I managed to escape Qirren’s clutches with a few shreds of actual personality intact?” Drusilla asked lightly. “Which is more than some people can say…”

 

“You’re out of line, Watcher,” Keeper snapped.

 

“I do apologize,” Drusilla murmured. “Sir.”

 

Keeper’s scornful expression increased in intensity. “Get back to work.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Drusilla said without a hint of mockery—well, maybe a small hint—and turned back to her console.

 

Let’s see, what’s next… Request for approval by the Ministry of Logistics to replace all banners in the city so that the Imperial crest is purple instead of red. Stars help me.

 

 

In case anyone's forgotten, Drusilla, like Keeper, is the product of genetic manipulation. Qirren refers to the name of the doctor in charge of the project.

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Purple's a pretty color.

So is red.

But the Empire has been red foooooreeeeeeever!!!!

Some traditions are valuable.

You just don't like purple because it clashes with your skintone.

We're wasting time here when we could be doing something useful instead.

Hmph, I bet Nox would like purple.

I swear I don't know how Ukaita and Scourge escaped the AU thread. This is what I get for neglecting them.

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It seems that there is some confusion. *mutters* Idiots...

Now, now, be nice.

Spoilsport...

:mad:

*sigh* Fine, fine. Allow me to clarify: I am Nox. I am purple. I have always been purple, and I will always be purple, because purple is an excellent color. It's the color of lightning and evil Force stuff! Also, I am not Dark Jaesa! Dark Jaesa is a hussy, and I am most certainly not a hussy. Hmph.

Yes, yes. Away with ye.

What? But...I was having fun!

Too much meta is not a good thing.

Nonsense, there can never be too much meta!

ENOUGH, Nox.

Fine. *stalks off*

I do hope that cleared up any confusion about the colors... It's been a while, I know. >.>

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  • 1 month later...

Deep in the desert wasteland of this thread, an author appears to deliver content and alleviate the drought...

 

Three - Scum and a Villain

Red Light District, Nar Shaddaa

19 ATC

 

 

Vesania reflected idly as she snapped a man’s neck with her bare hands that she was really starting to lose her touch. She hadn’t even noticed the group of suspicious-looking individuals skulking in the shadow of a building until she had practically run over them. Of course, they had immediately accosted her for inadvertently disrupting their illicit business dealings.

 

That was not going too well for them.

 

There had been six when the fight started. Vesania let the third corpse drop to the ground and regarded her other three assailants with a smile. They exchanged glances, then moved to flank her.

 

She had killed the first three without even bothering to draw her blaster, just for the fun of it. It had been far too long since she’d had the chance to practice unarmed combat. However, the fight had reached the point where it would simply be easier to use the weapon, since she couldn’t draw upon the Force without potentially revealing herself to any Jedi or Sith in the area.

 

She still had her enhanced reflexes, however. In the blink of an eye, she drew her blaster smoothly and shot the first thug in the head. An instant later, she was rolling into cover behind a crate that had been dropped at the beginning of the fight.

 

The men started to rush her. Vesania dropped them both with ease.

 

“Idiots,” she muttered as they hit the floor. “Sloppy idiots.”

 

She started to move out from behind the crate, then stopped, noticing a hole in the side that must have been created when the crate was dropped. Peering inside, she saw a number of small vials packed in plastifoam.

 

Curious, she thought. She reached carefully into the crate and removed one of the vials, examining it closely. A series of letters and numbers were etched into the glass.

 

Vesania’s eyes widened. She slid the vial into an inner pocket of her jacket, then reached inside the crate and grabbed more, stuffing them inside her jacket.

 

Sweet stars, she thought in amazement. Where did they get so much? This entirely unexpected windfall would doubtless prove beneficial.

 

After obtaining as many vials as she could carry, she moved over to the corpses and started searching them. Credits, identichips, a few small containers of what was probably spice… She examined the credits before tucking them away in her jacket. They had been sloppy thugs, but they had been well-paid sloppy thugs.

 

“Excuse me, miss,” drawled a male voice.

 

Vesania rose to her feet, inwardly cursing herself for letting someone get the drop on her. It had been far, far too long since she’d had to be properly watchful in a hostile environment, and she couldn’t detect presences in the Force while keeping her sensitivity masked.

 

She was being observed by a tall human male dressed in a finely tailored red suit that would not have looked out of place in the high-end nightclubs of Kaas City. He had pale skin and sharp, almost gaunt features. His head was completely hairless save for a well-groomed dark red mustache, the ends of which hung several inches below his chin and were braided with small beads.

 

He was accompanied by two Zabrak women. One had black hair and one had dark blonde, and their facial tattoos were different, but apart from that they were completely identical. The black-haired one had two vibroswords slung across her back, while the other carried a blaster rifle. Based on their high-quality armor and their protective stances as they stood on either side of the human, Vesania guessed that they were his bodyguards.

 

“Impressive work,” the human said, nodding to the corpses.

 

Vesania made a graceful bow, skirting close to the line between sincerity and mockery without quite crossing over. “Might I know who is complimenting me?” she inquired in her Republic accent.

 

“Renetas Malgar,” the human said. “I haven’t seen a show like that in quite some time.”

 

“If I’d known that I was going to have an audience,” Vesania returned smoothly, “I would have sold tickets.”

 

Malgar chuckled darkly. “A businesswoman, I see.”

 

She fluttered her eyelashes at him. “A girl’s got to make a living somehow.”

 

“Then perhaps I can interest you in a job opportunity,” Malgar said. “With your talents, I think you and I could do business together.” His eyes raked over her body, then lingered on her bosom.

 

“I’m always interested in job opportunities,” Vesania murmured. Pretending that she hadn’t noticed him ogling her, she casually undid the top fastenings of her jacket, revealing the low-cut shirt beneath. She stood slightly straighter, pushing her chest out. If this Malgar was attracted by more than just her combat skills, she’d milk that angle for all it was worth.

 

Malgar smirked, his eyes fixed firmly on her cleavage. “What’s your story, hm? You took down those men like a manka cat on a crippled nerf. You’re dressed a bit lightly for a bounty hunter, so I’m guessing you’re a professional assassin. I like professionals. They do good work.”

 

Vesania raised an eyebrow. “Can you afford me?”

 

He folded his arms across his chest. “I can be very generous. Interested?”

 

“Not until I hear a job, and a number.”

 

With visible effort, he took his eyes away from her chest and made a show of looking around the street. “Ah, but this is no place to discuss matters of a delicate nature. Perhaps you’d care to accompany me to a more private location? I own a business quite near here.”

 

She shrugged. “By all means.”

 

He indicated a direction, and she started walking. She suspected that he wasn’t going to move until she was in front of him, and she was proven correct a few moments later. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw the Zabrak bodyguards fall into step behind him.

 

Smart, she thought as she walked. This way, he makes sure I won’t shoot him in the back, and he gets to stare at my...assets…all the way there. Very smart.

 

Malgar had not exaggerated; their destination was only a few blocks away, a dingy building that on the outside appeared to be a droid parts dealer and on the inside turned out to be…a droid parts dealer. Interesting.

 

Vesania allowed herself to be ushered into a small, dimly lit room that was empty save for a number of crates stacked against one wall. She did her best to appear relaxed; in reality, her every sense was on high alert.

 

“Wait outside,” Malgar said to his guards. The two Zabrak women nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

 

Vesania raised an eyebrow. “You’re not concerned for your safety?”

 

He shrugged. “You won’t kill me. Not while I still have an offer to make you.”

 

She pursed her lips. “I haven’t heard anything yet.”

 

Malgar reached into a pocket of his jacket. Instinctively, she tensed, ready to defend herself, but his hand emerged holding a datapad and not a weapon. At least, it looked like a datapad. One never knew.

 

“There’s a Zabrak bounty hunter named Normar Lanyt who operates in this area of the planet,” Malgar said. “I hired him recently to capture a target, and he took a bribe to let the individual in question walk free.” His expression turned dour. “I want him dead.”

 

“I daresay I can manage that,” Vesania murmured. “For the right price.”

 

“Ten thousand.”

 

“Ten?” she scoffed. “Don’t insult me. I have to make a living, here.”

 

“That would be ten up front,” Malgar clarified, stroking his mustache. “I’ll give you another twenty thousand when the job is done.”

 

“Thirty thousand credits to off a local bounty hunter,” Vesania mused. “This is beneath me, but I’ll do it.”

 

Malgar gave her a smile that was more of a leer. “Excellent. Perhaps I could interest you in performing another job for me? One of a more…personal nature?”

 

Vesania lunged forward and grabbed him by the shoulders, pinning him against the nearest wall with a burst of Force-enhanced speed as she dropped her mental shields. He struggled vainly against her hold, then tried to call for his guards. Fear appeared in his eyes as he discovered the invisible force holding his jaw shut.

 

“I have standards, you know,” she told him in her Imperial accent. “I wouldn’t f*ck a piece of lowlife filth like you unless it was for a mission, and I don’t do those anymore. You’ll pay me for my killing work, and you will require nothing more.”

 

She drew on the dark side and seared his mind with the Force, burning away the memory of what she had just told him and replacing it with the compulsion. She did her best to implant a false memory based on one of her finest sexual performances—but not the finest, he didn’t deserve that—then released him, letting him fall to the ground in an unconscious heap.

 

Cloaking herself in the shadows, she procured Malgar’s datapad, then slipped silently out of the room. The two Zabrak guards were a short distance away, and appeared to be engrossed in a game of pazaak. They did not notice the patch of darkness that slid past them and molded itself into the form of a dark-haired woman as it paused beneath the harsh glow of a street lamp.

 

Vesania laced her fingers together and stretched her arms out in front of her, cracking her knuckles. She set off down the street with her usual small smile on her face. Time to seek, find, and kill. That was, when it all came down to it, what she was best at doing. And she enjoyed exercising her talents very much.

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Four – Plots

Vaiken Spacedock

19 ATC

 

 

“That was disappointingly easy,” Ravage pouted as he and Marr walked along the center ring of the Vaiken Spacedock. “We didn’t even get to fight.”

 

“It is unfortunate,” Marr agreed. “I was looking forward to showing you how the real Sith get things done.”

 

“Please,” Ravage scoffed. “When was the last time you were on a battlefield?”

 

“When was the last time you were?”

 

“When I had to fight my way off Dromund Kaas,” Ravage said haughtily.

 

A metallic sigh emerged from Marr’s mask. “We all did that, Ravage. It doesn’t make you special.”

 

“I believe I missed the part where I said I thought it made me special?”

 

“You were thinking it.”

 

“You’re delusional,” Ravage sniffed.

 

“You’re a self-absorbed dandy,” Marr retorted.

 

“A dandy?” Ravage repeated incredulously. “Seriously?”

 

“I can certainly see why you found Nox so appealing. She’s just as vain as you are.”

 

Ravage rolled his eyes. “If I cared about my looks, I would have subtler cybernetics.”

 

“And the tattoos?”

 

“Family tradition,” Ravage said dismissively. He glanced sidelong at Marr. “I can’t help it if women flock to me. That doesn’t make me vain.”

 

Marr snickered. “You surround yourself with beautiful young Sith—”

 

“They’re my apprentices.”

 

“More like your concubines.”

 

Ravage sighed. “How I choose to indulge my passions is none of your affair.”

 

“Overindulge, more like,” Marr muttered.

 

“None. Of. Your. Affair.”

 

“You’re rather defensive about this,” Marr observed with interest. “Just like you get defensive whenever anyone brings up Nox.”

 

“I have no desire to be needled about her yet again.”

 

“I will stop ‘needling,’ as you put it, when you stop insisting that she is not dead.”

 

“I am only insisting that I require concrete proof of her demise. Perfectly reasonable.”

 

“There’s nothing reasonable about you, Ravage,” Marr said coolly. “Perhaps that’s why I dislike you so much.”

 

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual.”

 

“The fact that we two, out of all the Dark Council, survived this coup…” Marr shook his head. “It seems the Force has a sense of humor.”

 

“One that I do not appreciate,” Ravage grumbled.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Marr said in a tone that suggested his mask was presently concealing a smirk. “‘If only Nox were here…’”

 

“Will you shut up about Nox for five damn minutes?”

 

“Only if you do.”

 

“Marr, the only person who keeps bringing up Nox is you.”

 

Marr ignored him. “I did not dislike her, you know. She earned her place among us, despite what certain individuals said.”

 

“You can’t put a Lord on the Dark Council,” Ravage muttered. “You just can’t. It’s not right.”

 

“Clearly, she was strong enough to deserve the Darth title. The only reason she did not already possess it was Thanaton’s vendetta. I merely amended that oversight.”

 

“I will never understand how you, of all people, have a soft spot for her.”

 

“You’re one to talk,” Marr snorted. “I saw the way you looked at her when she walked into the chamber and confronted Thanaton. You wanted a piece of that. Don’t deny it.”

 

“I’m not the one who promoted her from Lord to Darth to Council member in the space of thirty seconds,” Ravage retorted.

 

The spikes on Marr’s shoulders shifted as he shrugged. “She earned her place, and with it, my respect. Which is more than I can say for some people.”

 

Ravage’s glare could have incinerated durasteel. “I earned my place on the Council, Marr. Don’t ever dispute that.”

 

“You were…not entirely unworthy,” Marr conceded. “Your methods leave much to be desired, however.”

 

“I’m not arguing with you about this,” Ravage said flatly. “Not again.”

 

“There is no argument to be made.”

 

“I can sense your contempt. Continue to push me, and you will regret it.”

 

Marr stepped in front of Ravage, looming over him. “Are you threatening me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That will not end well for you.”

 

“And maybe it will end worse for you, hmm?”

 

The two men scowled at each other for a long moment—at least, Ravage scowled; who knew what expression Marr had behind that mask. Then, as if by mutual agreement, they both turned and strode off in opposite directions.

 

 

*****

 

 

When Ravage stormed into the hangar where he had docked his personal starship, he found Lynet Vrine standing off to one side waiting for him. She was still wearing the civilian clothes that she had used to disguise herself when she sneaked out of Intelligence headquarters and fled Dromund Kaas. That did not stop her from standing at attention when she saw him, however.

 

“You asked to see me, my lord?” she asked, remaining impassive in the face of his obvious ill temper.

 

“Yes,” Ravage said shortly, forcing his anger back. There was no point in taking it out on her, particularly when he was about to ask for a favor. “I did. There’s something I need you to do for me.”

 

“My resources are limited,” Lynet said, a small, annoyed frown crossing her face. “Nonetheless, I am at your disposal.”

 

“How difficult would it be for you to locate information on a specific individual, given the resources you have available?” he inquired.

 

Lynet paused, apparently thinking it over. “Well…there are databases here on the fleet, and I might be able to remotely access the Intelligence archives.” She nodded once. “It’s doable, my lord.”

 

“Excellent,” Ravage murmured. “I would like you to find out everything that you can about Darth Nox. Her background, her exploits…everything.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “As you wish.”

 

Ravage smiled faintly. “You always were my favorite niece.”

 

A tiny smirk made its way onto her otherwise blank features. “I’m flattered, my lord.”

 

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he advised dryly. “Now, begone with you.”

 

Lynet bowed crisply and left the hangar.

 

Ravage watched her go, then boarded the vessel and headed away from the station and back to his warship. He would be damned if he dealt with Marr again that day. On the bright side, Lynet would hopefully find some useful information about Nox, something he could use to clear away some of the mystery surrounding her. Something he could use to find her and bring her back…

 

 

 

Since the game and the encyclopedia give us virtually no information whatsoever about Darth Ravage, I took the liberty of headcanoning him a full backstory, more of which will be revealed later. :D

 

I'm doing my best to get back on track with this story, but right now is an extremely busy time for me. I probably won't be able to start posting with decent regularity until the end of the semester. But once that's taken care of, I will do my best to write in a timely manner!

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Five – To Serve the Empire

Sith Intelligence Headquarters, Dromund Kaas

19 ATC

 

 

Either it was Drusilla’s imagination, or ever since Jadus had taken over, the caf at HQ had started tasting inexplicably better. She took a long sip from the plastene cup, then replaced it in its niche on one side of her console, where it wouldn’t spill.

 

The cup was standard-issue, but she’d livened up the plain white surface with the signatures of everyone she’d worked with on the graveyard shift. Looking over the names, pseudonyms and designations scrawled onto the plastene, it was sobering to note how many of those people were dead.

 

Drusilla took another sip of caf. It just wasn’t the same as it had been. There was a certain bitterness to Intelligence caf that she had always liked to think reflected the mindset of the people drinking it. That harshness was gone, now, replaced with smooth, rich flavor.

 

If this was a subtle means of improving morale, it was one hell of an effective way to go about it. She wondered why the higher-ups hadn’t implemented such a measure sooner.

 

She debated for a moment whether she should take another drink, or try to pace herself. When someone with an enhanced brain got hopped up on caffeine, the results could be…interesting.

 

Oh, what the hell, Drusilla thought, and took a generous gulp. The hot liquid steamed down her throat. She imagined that she could feel the caffeine working its way through her bloodstream and up into her brain, pulsing gently along the neural pathways. It was a nice feeling.

 

Putting the cup down, she returned her attention to the console screen. Her clearance had still not been processed, so she was stuck doing work that a junior Minder could have handled.

 

I suppose it’s my own fault for mouthing off to Keeper every chance I get, she reflected. But that woman is entirely too stuck up.

 

Without turning her head away from the console, she watched Keeper talk with two of the senior Watchers on the other side of the room. Drusilla didn’t even know who those two were. She didn’t bother keeping track of personnel anymore. Mortality rates were at a record high, even for non-Ciphers. Just the past week, a Watcher had walked into a storage room in the basement of HQ and vanished without a trace. There was a pall in the air over Kaas City, a sense of growing darkness.

 

A sudden blinking notification in her peripheral vision drew her full attention back to her console. Someone was attempting to remotely access the archives.

 

Drusilla frowned at the screen. Odds were that the individual in question was an Intelligence operative or analyst who had fled the planet in the turmoil immediately following Jadus’ ascension. Stars knew there had been quite a few of those.

 

Her gloved fingers hovered over the controls. She could probably trace the signal back to its source. Then again, it was no secret that the “rebels” who opposed Jadus had recently taken Vaiken Spacedock. The mysterious agent was probably working from there.

 

Strangely enough, the agent was not attempting to access any sensitive information. Instead, they were bringing up old records, personnel files. Peculiar, that. Drusilla followed their data trail and examined the files that they had been viewing.

 

She skimmed through a series of news reports, warfront bulletins, and spaceport logs. It took less than a minute for the pattern to become clear: this person was looking for information on one Vesania Serence. Now that was interesting.

 

Proper Imperial etiquette dictated that once a Sith attained a Darth title, one simply pretended that any and all exploits under their former name had not occurred. That did not stop people from looking, however.

 

The question was…why in the galaxy was someone looking for information on Darth Nox? Drusilla had been present when the woman had been declared dead; setting an official deceased status for a member of the Dark Council required multiple witnesses. Still, there was little point in stopping someone from digging up information on a dead woman.

 

As soon as the thought of whether or not to stop the intruder crossed her mind, she started to feel a slight pressure in her temples. It really would be a good idea to stop them. It would be her duty.

 

No, she thought determinedly. I am going to let this happen, because if I do, it might be for the greater good of the Empire.

 

Her hands shook as she typed in the commands to grant the remote viewer complete access to the archives and render them invisible from further tracing. As soon as she finished, she started feeling dizzy. Small explosions of pain blossomed in her head.

 

Drusilla gritted her teeth and did her best not to fall over. The pain wasn’t so bad; she wasn’t trying to disobey a direct order, just going against the way she was supposed to handle this kind of situation. It would pass after a few moments.

 

She slowly eased her iron grip on the edge of the console as the dizziness subsided. Her knees promptly gave way, and she sagged forward, narrowly avoiding knocking over her caf.

 

“Sir?” asked a soft voice. Minder Forty-three, whose station was closest to hers, had noticed her predicament. “Sir, are you all right?”

 

“I’m fine,” Drusilla said coolly. “Just a bit tired.” The fact that she was clinging to the edge of her console as if her life depended on it was rather contradictory to that statement, but that couldn’t be helped.

 

Minder Forty-three frowned. “Are you sure—”

 

Drusilla didn’t believe in a higher power, but sometimes there were coincidences that were so utterly fortuitous that she had to wonder if the universe was somehow looking out for her. At the exact moment when she lost her grip on the console and started to slide to the floor, Darth Jadus stepped into the room.

 

She let herself fall to her knees as everyone around her did the same. Her small piece of disloyalty would not be discovered. Not today.

 

 

 

Being genetically modified, Drusilla has conditioning that affects her adversely when she goes against what she knows her superiors want her to do. Since she is also a flawed specimen, she is capable of summoning the willpower to go against that conditioning on occasion.

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